


The Further Adventures of Gene Hunt, Male Rent Boy

by AngeRabbit



Series: Gene Hunt, Male Rent Boy [2]
Category: Life on Mars (UK)
Genre: Crack, M/M, PWP, Slash, so much crack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-06
Updated: 2013-02-06
Packaged: 2017-11-28 10:33:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/673412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngeRabbit/pseuds/AngeRabbit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No explanation needed, possibly just apologies for frying people's brains.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Further Adventures of Gene Hunt, Male Rent Boy

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on LJ on 24/04/2008.
> 
> **Disclaimer:** LOM belongs to Kudos and the BBC, until I get the blackmail tapes sorted out...

"You want me to wear **what**?"

"I am prepared to pay you extra. I didn't think you'd mind."

"Oh, why would I mind wearing something that's not only pink, but scratchy enough to rub all the 'airs off me balls? I don't know what you're into, pal, but I'm a professional. There's no way I'm prancing round in a tutu like some kind of fairy."

"I'll pay you a hundred."

"Give it 'ere. I'll be back in a minute. But if this brings me out in a rash, I'll be coming after yer twig and berries with a cheese grater. You bloody deviant."

"That looks....oh yeah...um...nnngh."

"There's no way I'd trust the fashion sense of a man who wears shirts loud enough to frighten Stevie Wonder. Of course, my magnificent frame could carry off wearing most things, I know this. Fuck me, this chafes! If it sets fire to me pubes, it's going to cost you another twenty."

"Keep it on while you're – er – attending to my needs, will you?"

"Oooh, listen to the master 'ere...attending to yer needs? If yer mean me screwing you through the floor, then first things first, Lord Snooty. Get on yer knees and get the Gene Genie ready for action. All this pink's putting me off. Me cock feels like it's drownin' in a drag queen's 'andbag."

"It's very hot under here, you know."

"I can 'ear talking, which means yer mouth is not full. If yer mouth's not full, then yer not playin' on my pink oboe. So 'ow's about we dispense with the chattin' and get to the suckin'?"

"Right. I – er – I think you're ready now. I am paying you a lot of money for this, you know."

"Well it's about time you were naked and on yer 'ands and knees then. Lube's on the side, as usual. Grease up yer tunnel of love and wait for the SS Hunt to start dockin' procedure."

"Just take it slowly, please."

"Slowly? If yer worried about this pink netting shredding yer arse, don't be. The rate I'll be goin' yer might get away with some friction burns. I reckon you'd like that, wouldn't yer? Dirty slut."

"Ah yeah...keep talking...I like that....aaaaah..."

"I'd 'ave thought you'd be used to my sizeable cock by now, yer come so often – not that I'm complainin', mind. If yer willin' to keep payin' me daft money, I'm willin' to keep fillin' yer gap for you."

"Keep talking dirty, I meant...oh god that's good..."

"No need to stand on ceremony, you can call me Gene. As for talkin' dirty, keep pushin' back like that and I'll say anythin' you want. Yer filthy, dirty, fucking slut of a boy. Go on, shuffle back like a nervous lemming..."

"Mmmm. Aaaah...yeah...something seems to be scratching my skin."

"You've brought that on yerself, pal. I told you it would 'appen. Cheap pink netting should never be involved when a man's buried balls deep in 'is latest conquest."

"I'm not complaining, actually. Go as fast as you like. It's not an unpleasant sensation."

"I knew it! You kinky bastard. You'll be asking me to slap yer chopper about with a rubber glove next. Which'll cost you extra, by the way. Now stop whimpering like a monkey on crack and let me get on with pokin' yer prostate."

"I think...ohhhhh...I think I'm going to...."

"Of course you are, you've got the Gene Genie's love torpedo firing up yer arse. So drop yer yoghurt and then I can get out of this bloody frou-frou...there you go. Now you can 'ave this tutu back an' all. It's a relief to get that bloody thing off."

"I thought I'd leave it here, so we could use it another time."

"You must be jokin'. You leave that 'ere and the only thing it'll get used for is cleaning me spunk off the other customers. Besides, I should think yer desperate to get it home and tug yerself off over it. The memory of me wearing that, hammering you home, should last you all of five minutes before you cover it with sticky white spooge."

"Same time next week, then?"

"If you've got the money, I've got the time. Now see yerself out, there's a good fella."

"What, after I've just paid you a hundred pounds?!"

"That 'undred pounds bought you my cock in your arse, plus the extra thrill of cheap nylon scraping across yer back. What did you want for it, my undying love?! That's never going to 'appen, let's be realistic...see you next week then you short-haired nancy."

"Says the man who was wearing the tutu."

"Don't make me show you my own personal interpretation of the Nutcracker, pal..."


End file.
